sometimes gross is good
by deceptivelycomplex3925
Summary: A Rizzles/SwanQueen crossover because I deserve it.
1. Chapter 1

"You know there is this thing called _silence_ and it's this totally new invention that they have in the settings on phones today."

Regina gives the now smirking brunette a withering glare and reaches her left hand over to click the lock button on her iPhone. Again.

"Shove it, Rizzoli," she hisses back and then directs her glare to that insipid suburban housewife with that _ridiculous _high pony tail who has apparently claimed it as her duty to shush her every time she speaks.

Regina Mills does _not_ get shushed.

She hears a throaty chuckle from Jane and they move from the down dog position to child's pose and that little brat is lucky she no longer uses fireballs and vines to teach lessons of respect.

"Careful, your majesty," Jane whispers mockingly, "your eyes are turning purple."

Another glare.

#

They're at their usual table in the small café, nestled in the back corner, Regina on one side and Maura and Jane on the other. Jane's got a coffee – much to Maura's irritation because apparently Jane's supposed to be cutting back (it's been a good year or so now) – Maura's drinking chai tea, along with Regina who buckled under Maura's insistence to try it.

It isn't terrible.

Jane has her arm up over the back of the booth, her fingers twirling mindlessly with one of the ends of Maura's curls in her pony tail and Maura's leaning into Jane's side and she loves them both very much but they're nauseatingly domestic and are reminding her _far_ too much of Snow and David right now.

Regina takes a sip of her drink and tries to refrain from rolling her eyes at them. She fails.

Maura meets her gaze and tilts her head smiling, a dimple forming.

"So what are Henry and Emma up to today?" she asks, missing the knowing smirk on Jane's face.

Regina doesn't and she flicks her eyes to give her a dirty look before sighing and waving her hand dismissively, taking another sip of her tea.

"Something about a Lord of the Rings marathon and endless amounts of popcorn."

Maura chuckles and Jane bobs her head in approval.

"Classic," she says with a smack of her lips, still nodding.

"You and Emma certainly have similar taste in movies," Regina drawls, "which is to say that both of you don't have any whatsoever."

Jane gasps and brings up a hand to her heart as if that's the most offensive thing anyone could say to her ever. She even sputters on her coffee a bit.

"Did you just slight one of the greatest trilogies to have ever been made _ever_?"

Regina shrugs, feigns indifference, takes another sip of her drink.

"I've seen them, they're mediocre at best. And really, trees talking and coming to life _and_ throwing random objects about?" Regina scoffs and shakes her head.

Jane gives her a look that suggests perhaps she should maybe check into the nearest mental institution.

"You were the _Evil_ _Queen_ from the Enchanted Forest, Regina. You learned _magic_ from a freaking reptile-man and you think talking trees are ridiculous?"

Regina thinks about that for a minute and then nods her head, conceding.

"Touché, dear."

Maura chuckles and shakes her head as if to say 'these are the idiots I've chosen to love' and then Regina's phone starts buzzing again, Emma's name lighting up the screen.

And she doesn't even have to look at Jane to know she's smirking. Again.

Regina sighs and sets down her tea, picking up the phone and swiping her thumb across the screen. If something had happened to Henry, Emma would have kept calling after the second time she ignored it. She didn't.

So Emma was calling for personals reasons. Or she's blown something up again. She really hopes that's not the reason, she _is_ with their son.

"Miss Swan, was there any particular part of 'I'll be back in a few hours' that you did not comprehend?"

Regina can practically hear Emma's eyes rolling.

"We need your passcode for HBO."

Regina's brow creases in confusion.

"Why would you – you're in _my_ house right now?" Regina feels a jolt of anger followed by a flutter of something she doesn't at all want to even _try_ to name and really, she doesn't know why she sounds so incredulous when Emma's at the mansion more times than she's not nowadays and now it's more a reflex than anything to react with anger toward the blonde's lack of decorum.

There's a huff on the other end and the sound of clanking and what sounds like her cupboards being opened and closed and Regina lets out a huff of her own because Emma's _rummaging_ and she feels _comfortable_ enough to do so, with her on the phone no less, and honestly –

"_What_ are you looking for?" Regina says in exasperation once the bangs and clangs become increasingly louder with the blonde's apparent frustration.

"Where the hell are the bowls in this place, they're not above the sink anymore."

And again, the fact that Emma _knows_ where her bowls had been makes that flutter more pronounced and her stomach kind of lurch.

"That's because I moved them. They're in the cupboard to the right of the coffee maker, top shelf."

She misses the looks of silent amusement between her two companions and the mouthed 'so married' from Jane.

Regina hears some shuffling and two clanks and a 'got 'em' and rolls her eyes.

"_Do_ make yourself at home, dear."

"Don't worry, I am," Emma chirps, sniffing for good measure.

And Regina's horrified to feel her mouth tugging up into a smile and so she rolls her eyes again to cover up her slip and try to make a show of how much the blonde annoys her but really it just comes out affectionate and _comfortable_ and _damn_ _it._

"We're making popcorn. Henry wants his drizzled with caramel, do you have any?"

Regina leans back against the cushion of the booth, affronted.

"Of course I don't have any cara – "

"Oh yeah?" Emma drawls, "is that why there's a bottle of it hidden behind the Brita filter?" She's smirking, she knows she is.

Regina's face flushes.

"Stop nosing around in my refrigerator, Miss Swan," she snaps out, but it doesn't have its usual icy bite. It's a bit too fond. Regina wants to groan.

She hears a chuckle and the sound of beeping and then the buzz of the microwave.

"You're blushing right now aren't you?"

And no, no she is most certainly _not_ blushing. She's _not_ blushing over the fact that her clandestine sweet tooth is now not so clandestine anymore and she _definitely_ is not blushing because of Emma Swan.

"I'm hanging up now."

And Emma laughs out loud at that, all tinkering and soft and free and _comfortable_ and Regina's breath catches at the sound.

"I really only called to out you on the caramel," she says, laughter lingering in her voice. "You need a new hiding place, by the way, Henry was the one who told me where to look. Rolled his eyes at you and everything, even crossed his arms and was all 'I can't believe she seriously thinks I don't know about it' – looked just like you, it was kinda scary."

So _that's_ why the bottle felt a bit too light the other evening. Hm.

"Yes, well I _am_ his mother," she sniffs. And it's not said to show possession, to hurt or barb, it's said in jest. Teasing. She's _teasing_ with Emma Swan.

This is utterly ridiculous.

"Yeah, yeah," Emma replies and Regina hears the loud popping of the popcorn and then Henry's 'Mom, come on, it's starting!' in the background and her brow furrows.

"Kid, it's operated on play and pause, stop rushing the popcorn," she hears Emma say.

"I thought you needed the passcode?" Regina asks, confused.

Emma chuckles again. "Nope. I literally just called to hear your reaction about the caramel. Gotta say, I'm a little let down. Figured you'd freak out a little more."

Regina clicks her tongue. "I do not _freak_ _out_, Emma."

"Okay, sure, Regina. Keep telling yourself that," Emma says through a smile.

There's a long beep of the microwave and the sound of the door of it being opened.

"Alright, our kid's gonna yell at me again so I'll see you later. Give Maura a kiss for me and tell Jane to keep her grumpus under control. We'll save you a bowl. With caramel," she adds, and she knows, just _knows_, she's smirking and _honestly_ smirking is _Regina's_ forte so why is everybody stealing it from her today?

"I hate you." And she hears Emma's laugh again as she pulls the phone away from her ear and presses the end button, putting it in her coat pocket next to her before turning to find two sets of amused and knowing eyes.

"Don't," she holds up a hand and inhales, shaking her head.

Maura bites her lip to keep from smiling and Jane just tilts her head and smirks.

"_Miss Swan_," she mimics.

"Rizzoli, don't think I won't turn you into a toad," Regina threatens.

Jane scoffs and leans forward, her dark eyes playful.

"You wouldn't dare, Mills."

And she's right of course. They're in public. Outside of Storybrooke. So of course she wouldn't. It doesn't mean she can't entertain the idea though.

"I care far too much for Maura to put her through that anyway. You'd be exceptionally hideous as an amphibian."

"Regina!" Maura exclaims, chuckling even as she tries to sound admonishing, surging forward to swat at Regina, her fingers just barely brushing against her bare arm from her tank top, the swell of her belly hindering her from outright slapping her.

Regina shrugs and finds Jane's eyes, smiling and warm, and Regina finds herself answering in kind. Their playful banter is something she truly enjoys – it reminds her of how she is with Emma. Not that she'd ever admit that to Jane, of course. Regina turns back to Maura who's now shaking her head at her.

She takes a sip of her tea, her hand idly rubbing circles into her very pregnant belly and her eyes are soft when they meet Regina's.

"You know she feels the same way, Regina," she says gently.

And Regina's head tilts back and her mouth falls agape because she wasn't expecting _Maura_ to be the one to talk about this. She's supposed to be on _her_ side, supposed to yell at _Jane_ for being pushy and bringing it up every time they're together.

"I don't – "

"We're not Snow, we're not David, we're not anyone from Storybrooke, Regina. We're your best friends, like your only friends actually, so stop trying to act all indignant and 'I wouldn't _deign_ to care for someone like Miss Swan, scoff, hair flip.' We love you. We love Emma. You love Emma. Emma loves you. Now get together already so we can have double dates and be sickeningly clichéd and adorable together." Jane's giving her that _look_. That 'we love you, sweetie' look and Jane's all hard edges and bad ass 'doesn't take no shit' but she's giving her that _look_ and she's so much like Emma sometimes and it makes Regina's heart ache and it's too much and so she does what she does best.

She pretends it doesn't affect her.

"I have friends," Regina quips, sounding more petulant than icy.

Jane snorts and Maura rolls her eyes.

"Name one," Jane taunts.

And Regina's brain stutters because really she doesn't have _friends._ No one from Storybrooke really fits that term; it's much too simple a word.

She thinks of Emma, of lopsided smiles and rich, blonde curls. She clenches her jaw.

Regina ignores the jibe altogether then and tilts her head.

"At least I'm not whipped, dear."

Jane's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and she smiles, impressed.

"I'm surprised you even know that word."

Regina scoffs and then pins them with a glare.

"Since when are you two so invested in my love life, anyway?"

"Uh, since the very first day we saw you with Emma. Duh." Jane replies and Maura nods, giving her an apologetic smile.

Regina sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"You two are exhausting."

"You love us," Jane sing-songs.

"Not right now I don't," she is actually pouting. Regina Mills _doesn't_ pout.

She feels a hand rest atop hers and tips her eyes up to see Maura's thumb brushing against her knuckles.

"Tell her, sweetie."

And Regina's jaw sets and she really _does_ love these two but right now she does _not_ want to talk about this.

"Yeah, but like maybe stop calling her Miss Swan? Even the kid thinks you're ridiculous." Jane comments.

"I'm sorry, but do you not refer to each other as Dr. Isles and Detective?"

"Yes," Jane nods, "but we," she motions between her and Maura, "do it because we're flirting...and usually trying to get the other to bed...or _while_ we're - "

Maura gasps and back hands Jane's bicep. Jane just grabs her hand and and interlaces their fingers, smiling, all mischievous and _you're so screwed, Mills_.

"We're married. It's allowed…and not weird."

And Regina catches Maura's sympathetic smile before she buries her face in her hands and lets out that over-due groan.

"You'd think after a few Saturdays of this yoga class and you two cornering me with… _this_ afterwards I'd wise up and just stop coming," she murmurs, deflating under their too caring gazes. Always with the matchmaking.

They both chuckle, Jane's always a bit rougher, a bit huskier, and she feels Maura's hand pat at hers.

"We just want you to be happy, Regina."

"And laid," Jane adds.

"Jane!" Maura smacks her on the arm again and Jane winces even as she laughs and throws her hands up in a 'what?! It's true!' manner.

And Regina's standing and slipping her coat on because she's officially done with these two and their soft, soft eyes and Jane's frustratingly accurate comments and she leans down to press a kiss to Maura's cheek, her hand resting over Maura's own on her belly before fixing Jane with a stern look.

"Take care of her."

And Jane's face softens and she smiles, nodding as her and Maura watch Regina walk out of the café and disappear past the window.

"How long do you think it'll take?"

Maura tilts her head in thought, both of them still looking out the window, cars passing and people strolling by with scarves and hats and little kids bundled up like that kid from A Christmas Story.

"I give it three weeks."

Maura turns and fixes Jane with a smirk.

"I give it one."

And Jane smiles wryly, tipping her coffee cup.

"You're on, Dr. Isles."


	2. Chapter 2

**Because my two otps as best friends is a weakness and I wanted to write another chapter of it.**

"Why am I being subjected to this movie _again_?"

"Because you're a pushover," Emma says around a mouthful of popcorn.

Regina fixes her with a glower and then scrunches her face.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, really Emma, I thought I only had one child."

Henry snorts and shoves a handful of caramel coated popcorn into his mouth and shrugs away from Emma's socked foot when she tries to nudge him.

"You haven't even had a bite of this, Regina." She takes a piece almost completely covered in caramel and holds it in front of her, waggling it a bit when Regina just stares at her, looking wholly unimpressed and not at all tempted.

"That's because I don't want any of it."

And Emma tilts her head then, lopsided grin in place and eyes glittering from the images flashing across the screen of the television, and Regina sighs and snatches the candied popcorn out of her hand and tosses it into her mouth, chewing quickly before swallowing. She licks some salt off of her lips and then looks at Emma, eyebrows raised.

"Happy now?"

And Emma chuckles then, shaking her head and turning back to the movie, tucking her feet up underneath her.

"Your mom thinks she's so clever."

Henry snickers, eyes glued to the movie, chomping away at his popcorn.

"Yeah, that's because she usually is, Ma."

And Regina's eyebrow ticks up, a proud smile making its way on her lips and she gives Emma one of those 'see, dear?' smirks.

Emma throws the pillow she had been using at the back of Henry's head, sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch.

"You're supposed to be on my side." Emma grumbles.

Henry grabs the pillow and tucks it underneath his arms.

"Thanks, Ma, I've been eyeing this pillow since you sat down."

Regina chuckles at Emma's scowl and her son's snark, which he'd very much gotten from her, and grabs a handful of the popcorn out of the bowl resting in Emma's lap.

"It seems you're outnumbered, dear."

Emma narrows her eyes at her and angles her bowl so that it's nestled closer to her and farther away from Regina.

"Yeah, well you've just lost your popcorn privileges."

Regina feigns hurt and Emma grumbles, shifting away from her on the couch, almost sitting atop the arm of it.

Regina bites back a grin.

#

"I hope you don't mind that we came back here. Henry wanted to watch it on the flat screen and not on the little one that I have at the apartment," Emma says softly a few hours later when they're washing the bowls and Henry'd gone upstairs to bed.

Regina hands over the last bowl for Emma to dry and shakes her head, smile gentle.

"No, of course not."

She dries her hands off and turns to lean against the edge of the sink, hands gripping at the counter.

Emma places the bowl in the drainer and mirrors the action.

"So how are Maura and Jane?"

Regina crosses her arms then, feeling a jolt of unease. _You know she feels the same way, Regina._

"Oh, they're," she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "they're the same as they always are. Maura the mature one and Jane the perpetual sixteen year old boy."

She rolls her eyes, chuckling and Emma chimes in with her, pushing off the counter to lean against the island, closer to Regina now, facing her.

"That sounds about right." Emma shrugs her shoulders and rocks on her heels. "Soo…"

Regina dips her head, flexes her bare toes, wonders if perhaps she should redo her nails.

"Would you like something – "

"I should get going – "

They both flush red and Regina bites her lip again, keeps that _giggle_ that had been threatening to escape at bay.

Emma doesn't and she brings a hand up to scratch at the back of her neck, a habit Regina's noticed she's prone to when she's uncomfortable or nervous.

"I, uh – I'd love a drink."

#

"Okay, but he wasn't – he doesn't even count because we never even kissed."

Regina hums into her fourth (fifth?) glass of wine.

"Yes, but he had the most promise out of all your suitors."

She hears Emma snort beside her and she moves to sit Indian style, her knee brushing up against Regina's, making her suck in a sharp breath.

Emma's eyes snap to hers and she mumbles out a 'sorry' before draining her glass (Regina thinks this is her sixth but she can't be sure because she's not even certain how many _she's_ had).

Emma sets her glass down and leans back into the plush cushion of her couch.

"You think? What about Neal though? I mean he was Henry's father." Emma looks haunted suddenly, her lips tugging down into a frown, and she's facing forward but Regina sees the pain in her visage.

She bites back her immediate retort to place her hand on Emma's knee, bare from her cotton shorts.

She turns her head then and Regina's surprised to see tears dancing on her eyelids, deep sea green always so piercing, always so unbridled.

"He was a good man, Emma. And I think he would have made a wonderful father to Henry."

And even if the thought of having to share her son with _another_ person would have been akin to prying the very flesh from her bones, she knows she would have allowed it. She knows she couldn't have bared to be the cause of a disappointed Henry again, of a resentful Henry, a _hateful_ Henry. She would have clenched her jaw, straightened her shoulders, _smiled_, for him. For Henry. Always for Henry.

She thinks though, she would have done it for Emma as well. Maybe not in the beginning because that was years ago, before _I made a promise I intend to keep_, before _I'm gonna stick by you, _before _for Henry_ became _because I care for you_.

She thinks she would do anything for Emma now.

She feels a hand on her own, warm and _soft_.

"How did that taste coming out of your mouth?" Because Emma's mode of deflection is humor and painful things, things that have left deep, jagged scars along the lining of her heart, are something Emma doesn't ever want to talk about. Even while inebriated.

Regina likes to think they have that in common.

So she sniffs, curls her lip up.

"Like vinegar."

Emma laughs then, a thumb swiping across her knuckles and Regina feels something swell inside of her at the sound. Feels something like accomplishment. Adoration. _Love_.

Her insides squeeze at the word and she swallows, feels words completely uncalled for and not at all bidden, bubbling up in her throat.

"Do you ever think about how far we've come?" She hears herself whisper, something breathy, wistful.

Emma's thumb stills then but her hand doesn't relinquish its hold on her own.

She's just veered them onto a road they don't ever acknowledge. One that's shrouded by overgrown trees and vines and leaves barely making it visible but _there_ nonetheless. They always pass it by without even so much as a glance. They're cognizant of it, yes. But never, _never_ do they acknowledge it. Never do they _talk_ about it.

But they've both had too many glasses of wine and it's going on three in the morning and their knees are touching and their hands are essentially interlaced now and Regina wants to acknowledge it, wants to _talk_ about it. She wants to clear their road of its leaves, of its vines.

"All the time," Emma whispers back.

Regina's eyes jerk to find that peculiar mixture of green and blue again, always so piercing, always so unbridled.

She watches as Emma's eyes glance to her lips and Regina mirrors the action, feels her heartbeat pound away in her chest. Feels cognizance, sharp and tangible, ripple through her like a shock.

"Are we really going to talk about this?" She's staring at Emma's lips which seem to be getting closer to her own.

She feels Emma's hand wrap around her own then – the one that had been resting on her knee – and slide it around her middle, resulting in Regina leaning in closer so that their shoulders touch. Regina's hand constricts, fingers meeting warm skin, Emma's tank top having ridden up a bit throughout the night.

Emma's nose brushes against Regina's and her breath hitches, skin buzzing, _alight_.

"I think we know what's happening, Regina." She smells the wine on Emma's breath as it breaks against her face and her eyes flutter, thumb drawing slow circles into a hipbone.

"_Emma_," Regina exhales, caught somewhere between a request and a demand and she doesn't wait for compliance before she surges forward.

And her hands move to tangle in Emma's hair, because _god_, has she _always_ wanted to do that.

And she had been thinking their first kiss would always be something tentative, something soft, something gentle. Light blue, gossamer caresses, tender smiles.

But they're not soft, they're not gentle. They're raking nails and crimson lips and teeth and tongue.

They're _passion_, raw and visceral and addicting.

She moans when Emma's teeth sink into her bottom lip and tugs a bit, eyes fluttering behind her eyelids when she laves her tongue along it seconds later.

And then she's throwing her leg over Emma's lap and straddling her, goosebumps following the almost desperate clutching of Emma's hands on her waist.

They've had too many glasses of wine and Regina can taste it in their kiss. Their kiss that's growing frenzied now, _sloppy._ Too many years, too many leaves, too many trees, and this kiss is like a storm passing over it. A storm because it wouldn't be anything but with them. All bellowing winds and rumbling thunder, blinding lightening and curtains of rain.

They're rolling their hips into one another now, Emma's back arching up off the couch to meet Regina's and it's just the sound of their lips meeting and their labored breathing and it's not until Regina hears her name, something moaned, something _needy_, that she pulls away, lips swollen, chest heaving.

And Emma blinks up at her, pupils completely blown out, cheeks flushed, lips glistening from their kiss and it takes everything within Regina to still her hips, almost whimpering at the throbbing between her legs.

"Emma," Regina breathes again, forehead coming to fall against hers.

She feels the hands at her waist squeeze.

"I know."

"We need to talk about this." She nuzzles Emma's nose.

Emma's thumbs smooth circles into her sides.

"I know," she says again.

"We also need to invite Jane and Maura over for dinner next week."

Regina leans back, brow furrowing, completely disoriented from the question.

"I'm sorry, what? Why?"

Emma looks over Regina's shoulder then, teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. Regina wishes she'd stop doing that.

"Uh…well, um. I kind of owe Jane twenty dollars." She mutters.

And Regina's eyebrow arches and she sits back on Emma's legs, fingers moving to smooth out the lines on her forehead and then brush along her lips, silently asking with her eyes to stop with the teeth nibbling.

"And why do you owe her money? Did you lose one of those bets you always seem to be making with her?"

And Emma mumbles something that sounds a lot like 'something like that' and Regina narrows her eyes.

"What did this _bet_ entail?"

Emma flicks her tongue out then, the warm muscle meeting the pad of her thumb and Regina's stomach flips at the sensation but she crosses her arms, not to be deterred from this.

Emma pouts a little and then sighs.

"This _bet_," she emphasizes just to get a glare from Regina, "was that I would kiss you before you kissed me."

Regina's mouth falls open then, blinking in shock.

Emma stumbles to apologize, eyes flickering back and forth between Regina's.

"Look, I know that you're probably mad and you're going to – "

"They told you too?" Regina says aloud, completely miffed that she's _surprised_ Jane and Maura would be pushing Emma as well.

Emma stops short, now the surprised, confused one.

"Wait, they told _you_?"

And their eyes meet then, brows furrowed, mouths downturned into scowls and they both burst into laughter seconds laughter, their foreheads meeting once more, Regina's hands finding purchase in Emma's hair again.

"They're ridiculous," Regina chuckles.

"No, I think _we're_ the ridiculous ones," Emma counters, still laughing.

And Regina has to agree.

"Shall I call them tomorrow then?" She places a chaste kiss on Emma's lips, smiling when Emma leans in to deepen it.

She sighs when Regina pulls away and climbs off of her, standing and grabbing their two empty glasses.

"Might as well," Emma says, standing as well and following Regina into the kitchen.

There's the clank of the glasses being sat in the sink and Regina leans back against it, smirk forming.

"You're ridiculously adorable when you pout."

Emma scoffs then, arms crossing, pout becoming more pronounced.

"I'm not pouting."

Regina chuckles then, pulls Emma in by the waist, wraps her arms around her, kisses her again because she _can_.

"Emma Swan, adorable pouting puppy," she whispers into their kiss and Emma retaliates by gripping the backs of her legs and lifting her up onto the counter, a gasp echoing throughout the kitchen followed by a raspy chuckle. A moan.

#

"Oh my god, Maur." Jane gasps the next day, leaping up off the couch.

Maura's in the kitchen making them lunch. Kale salad and some gross brown glob looking specimen.

"Guess where we're eating dinner at this Friday?"

And Maura gives her that little head tilt, that little quirk of her lips.

And then her eyes widen and she gasps, hand flying up to her mouth.

"No! Did they really?" She squeals and comes over, waddles really, but the last time she'd told Maura that she waddles she'd gotten locked out of the bedroom for a full two nights. She'd only been _joking_, jeesh.

"Looks like we were both wrong," Jane says, as she hands Maura the phone.

"I guess so," Maura chuckles, setting the phone down on the counter and moving back around the island after she'd read Emma's text.

Jane scrunches her face and pokes at the brown goop.

"Maur, I thought I told you no more mystery food."

And she gives her one of those looks then. One of those stern _you're insufferable, Jane _looks and she feels herself smiling because _god_, she loves that look.

"It's not 'mystery food', Jane. It's tofu. Actually it's called miso, a fermented version of it, basically. It's recommended for women who are pregnant. The acids in soy can - "

"_Maura_," Jane whines because she wants pizza and grease and _not_ kale and miso _paste_, "why do I have to eat this too?" She stamps her foot for good measure.

There's that look again.

"Because you are my wife and I am carrying _your_ child and we are supposed to do this together."

Jane blinks and changes her tactic, moving to sidle up behind Maura, hands rubbing circles into her protruding belly.

"Can't we just order pizza this one time? _Please_?" She drawls out in Maura's ear, feeling her lean back against her. She presses a kiss to her neck, right below her ear in that spot that always makes her eyes flutter and her mouth part on a shaky exhale. _Always_.

Jane loves that spot. She uses it to her advantage whenever she can. She thinks Maura's caught on to her scheme by now.

Maura's hands come up to lace with hers and she hears her sigh.

"You know there's going to come a day when that doesn't work on me anymore."

Jane does a victory dance and presses a sound kiss to Maura's temple, bounding around the island to grab her phone and press number four on her speed dial.

"But not _today_," she draws out the last syllable and smirks, watching as Maura rolls her eyes and begins to put the gross food away.

#

"Hey, kid," Jane says into his hair when she presses a kiss to the top of his head.

He pulls away from their hug and goes to give Maura a sideways one, always careful with her now.

She squeezes her arms around him, always so firm, always so loving, and her dimples are on full force when he looks up at her.

"Henry, you've gotten so tall!"

His face flushes then, head dipping and shoulders shrugging because he's kind of had this super big crush on his moms' best friend since like _forever_ and she's seven months pregnant and _glowing_.

"Yeah," he says on a chuckle. "How's the baby?"

Maura's hands moves to her belly and she smiles again, eyes glancing up to Jane's.

"She's wonderful."

And then Jane's got an arm around his shoulders and they're making their way into the kitchen where Mom's making them this new 'softer' version of her famous lasagna because 'Maura's seven months pregnant, Emma, I can't put red pepper flakes in it'.

"So, how is the happy couple?"

Henry smiles then, late night movies and his moms cuddling on the couch washing across the forefront of his mind.

"Good," he says, then remembers the _way_ too many times he's walked in on them in the _kitchen_ (like do they _have_ to do that _there_?) just in the past five days. He scrunches his face. "_Gross_."

Maura and Jane both chuckle as they all three make it into the kitchen, Emma with a stack of plates in her hands and Mom taking the lasagna out of the oven.

And it feels right, all of them together like this. Like a _family_.

"Gross is good, kid. Gross is good."

#

It's a few hours later and they're in Regina's bed, bare skin against bare skin, legs tangled and hair in knots and Emma's drawing circles into her thigh. _Gossamer_ _caresses_.

And Regina's hand is massaging at the back of her neck. _Gentle_.

She runs her knuckles down Emma's arm, watching goosebumps form on pale skin and she smiles then. _Tender._

"I love you," she whispers. Because their road is clear now.

And Emma's hand stills and her head leans up off of her chest, hand coming to rest under her chin as her eyes find Regina's. Always so piercing, always so unbridled.

_Tender_ now too.

And it's then that Regina realizes they're not one or the other, they're both.

Both blue and red (and Regina thinks there's always going to be a dash of grey with them too), both rough and soft, tender and passionate. They're a perfect mixture of it.

"I love you too," Emma whispers back.

And Regina had heard Henry's comment earlier. She pulls Emma into her, wraps her arms around her, feels Emma kiss her neck, smiles.

Sometimes, Regina thinks, gross is good.


End file.
